The 2015 Gentlemen of Las Vegas Charity Swimsuit Calendar
by Peabodythecat
Summary: The guys team up to raise money for a good cause. The plan is to post a chapter a month for all of 2015. Rated T because I am paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - for Otherhawk, who first got me thinking about all the possibilities of speedo!fic, and then had the awesome idea of the calendar.

A/N – Don't own any of the guys…but I'd buy this calendar, wouldn't you? It's for a good cause!

* * *

MR. JANUARY - Reuben Tishkoff

Reuben was an active member of many Las Vegas charity organizations. He believed strongly that it was his duty to give back to the community ...to his community...to the Vegas community. He'd always taken an interest in the people who worked for him - from his Executive VPs to the dishwashers to the accountants to the security guards. He knew when they were going through rough times and he always tried to help whether it was college scholarship funds, stipends for legal aid , lobbying the local government to improve ambulance service, funding free health care clinics, or holding ESL classes in the conference rooms of his hotels. He knew whose backs supported his lifestyle and he wouldn't be the reason they were broken and forgotten.

It was that charitable spirit that led to "Intriguing Gentlemen of Las Vegas 2015 Charity Calendar" or as _some_ people insisted on calling it ... the "Hunks of Las Vegas."

That year, Reuben co chaired the Las Vegas Cares annual fundraiser with a very determined and spunky woman named Vivian De La Rosa. Vivian found Reuben "bold" and "stylish." Vivian reminded Reuben of his first wife and he was having a very hard time refusing her anything...even when the ideas got a little outrageous...it IS Vegas after all. Dominick found the whole situation hilarious and took every opportunity to rub it in.

While serving coffee and mimosas during a working breakfast poolside at Reuben's, Dom grinned mischievously and "casually" mentioned to Vivian that "Mr Reuben was quite the playboy in his youth. Always seen with beautiful starlets. Very glamorous."

He ignored Reuben's scowl.

"He'd modeled a bit before starting his hotel. For one of the swimsuits catalogs I do believe."

Of course she demanded to see the old photos. It took all of Reuben's powers of persuasion and the liberal application of a specially mixed pitcher of martinis to convince Vivian that one of the older pictures would be better suited to a charity calendar. She gleefully seized one and scanned it onto her phone. She announced, "We have found our Mr. January! Now Reuben, darling, who do you have in mind for the other eleven?"

And Reuben, always being one to turn a defeat into an opportunity, grinned, "Oh I think I know just who to ask."

* * *

A/N - While searching for inspirational pics (no, that does not translate into surfing the internet for porn!) I came across this pic of young Elliott Gould and Barbra Streisand. I think its gorgeous. It's the inspiration for vintage Reuben as Mr. January. If the link fails, google: 'young elliott gould image' and look for the pic of the swimming pool.

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	2. Chapter 2 - Mr February

A/N - Happy Valentine's Day, y'all.

* * *

He stood backstage, hidden behind the curtain that opened out onto the runway. As he waited for his name (pseudonym of course) to be announced he listened to the crowd of screaming middle aged women chanting "Off! Off!" And wondered for the millionth time how he'd gotten into this mess.

* * *

Linus had always hated Valentines Day. As an elementary student, way back when when kids made a Valentine's box out of tissue paper, a shoe box and glitter, he was always the kid who got the card that said:

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_Skunks stink_

_And so do you ._

* * *

Then there was the awkward 8th grade dance he'd attended with Mary Jo Spencer. He was so nervous that he drank 13 glasses of fruit punch and ended up puking on her pastel pink ballet flats. Then she punched him in the stomach and danced the rest of the night with Frankie Laughlin.

* * *

The Valentines Day he was 17, he had an actual girlfriend. A sweet girl named Patti D'Eramo. She had red curly hair that was soft and smelled like vanilla. She liked to ice skate and play the guitar. Unfortunately, they both came down with mono and spent the most romantic day of the year in quarantine. His dad made horrible jokes about "the kissing disease" and Linus just wanted to die of humiliation. His mom stated flatly, "At least no one is pregnant." Linus hated his life.

* * *

At least in college, everyone was too busy being cynical and ironic to care about Valentine's Day. That didn't make not having a date any easier, or less expensive. He and his roommate ended up getting drunk, picking a fight with 6 huge frat boys and getting thrown out of the local bar. They only avoided a night in lockup because Linus paid off the campus bicycle cop with $100 cash and a promise to get him club seats for the NHL playoffs.

* * *

Last year he'd been on the job in Singapore and the dreaded day had come and gone before he could fret about it. That had been a really great job, he reflected as he waited behind the shimmery satin curtain. He'd teamed up with Amazing and together they'd taken the house. In hindsight, it was the best February 14th he'd ever had.

Also in hindsight, he realized had become complacent. He'd forgotten to be wary of any and all social interaction that took place between Groundhog's Day and President's Weekend. He'd forgotten to be wary of society matrons and he'd definitely forgotten how diabolically conniving Reuben Tishkoff could be when he waned something

And as his mother would tell anyone, Linus was at his core a good guy. He had a soft spot for the down trodden, the unlucky, the underdog. As his father would tell anyone, Linus didn't stand a chance.

Vivian took one look at Linus and announced that she'd found Mr. February. Reuben took one look at Vivian looking at Linus and thought about breaking Terry Benedict's single event fundraising record.

And so on Valentine's Day 2015, Linus Caldwell found himself at the Las Vegas Charity Gentlemen's Auction waiting to walk down a runway wearing nothing but a red speedo, Cupid wings and his good intentions.

The crowd went wild.

Linus hated Valentines Day.


	3. Chapter 3 - Mr March

Turk Malloy always appreciated the classics: Elvis (Presley over Costello), protein (cheeseburgers over tofu), movies (Eastwood over Van Damme) and even during the height of the 80s, he'd never, ever worn parachute pants. Levi's 501s. Button fly. Classic.

Naturally this extended to cars: big, gas guzzling, Detroit, union made classics. Muscle cars. Pony cars. Call them what you will. He loved them all from the 1964 Pontiac GTO; the 1968 Plymouth Road Runner; to the 1970 Chevelle SS 454, but his true love was the Chevrolet Camaro.

He was 5 years old the first time his dad took him and Virgil to the Provo Car Show. Just 5 years old, but when he laid his eyes on the IROC-Z, it was love at first sight.

The first car he ever bought (legitimately) was A limited edition 30th Anniversary Camaro – classic of course - white with orange stripes.

It was because of his obsession with the Camaro that he met Rusty. Rusty'd out bid him on a legendary 1969 Camaro ZL1 and Turk had been so pissed he followed Rusty back to his hotel to try to talk him into selling it. Or to pick a fight and take out some of his frustration.

It turned out that Rusty was entirely amenable to the deal. He'd only needed the car to get the papers left in the glove compartment...papers which contained the coded combination to a vault at the Bank of Switzerland.

After the deal was complete and the papers retrieved, they'd struck up a conversation at the bar, discovered a mutual love of classic cars and a mutual friend in Phil Turentine. The trip ended with Turk and Rusty driving the ZL1 back to Provo together with Elvis playing on the radio.

A month later they pulled a Mario Andretti in Rio with Virgil and Danny.

* * *

Turk had never been shy about his physique. He'd played football most of his life and kept up the workouts after high school. So, when he was passing through Chicago and dropped in to see Linus, they ended up working out at Linus' gym. After catching a glimpse of Turk's washboard abs, Linus (who was no slouch in the buff department, Turk graciously observed) mentioned that Reuben should have had _Turk_ help him out last month, _not Linus_.

Naturally, Turk couldn't let it pass and Linus reluctantly told him about Vivien, the charity auction and a pair of golden cherub wings.

After laughing so hard he actually collapsed to the floor, Turk said semi seriously, "Sure. I'll do it. Sounds like fun. Plus it will drive Virg crazy. He'll be so jealous he'll volunteer for a spread too. That's good for Reuben's charity, right?"

And Linus just stared at him.

There was of course a catch. With Turk there was ALWAYS a catch. Well, there were two catches.

First was that Reuben had to get Virgil to do it too. Of course, Reuben had already thought of that and had a plan in the works. No need to let Turk know that of course, but still...

Second was that Turk had _very_ particular ideas about how he wanted to pose. And with whom. And with what.

Reuben nixed the _who_ immediately.

"_For gods sake, it's not porn, it's a charity fundraiser." _

But that set Turk up nicely for the _what_. And the what was a 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Indianapolis 500 Pace Car that Reuben just so happened to own; pace car from the race that Reuben attended as Sinatra's special guest.

Reuben was reluctant.

As he told Frank, when his friend called to reminisce about a job they ran back in Brooklyn, he doesn't quite trust Turk to act responsibly.

Surprisingly, Frank stood up for Turk, "Let the kid do it, man. It's not like the kid's driving the car as part of some crazy job dreamed up by Danny Ocean, where he's hired muscle and get-away driver. This is the boy's passion. I've seen him, Reuben. So have you. He has respect."

Reuben remained unconvinced.

Luckily for Turk, Vivian took one look at him in a pair of skin tight Levi's, and turned on the charm. With a mournful glance at Dominick, who was standing expressionlessly to the side, Reuben acquiesced.

* * *

And that is how the 2015 Las Vegas Classic Car Show came to be the venue for a very unique charity photo shoot: featuring Mr. Turk Malloy posing with the car of his dreams in a teeny tiny speedo bikini. Orange and white of course…classic.


	4. Chapter 4 - Mr April

Virgil Malloy was proud of his brother. He hardly ever showed it, and he never ever said it, but he loved his twin; couldn't imagine life without him. He defended Turk fiercely when his brother was criticized. He'd taken a punch for him, dumped a girl for him, and even spent the night in jail for him.

That said...there was no way on gods green earth that He was going to let Turk walk around Provo with that shit eating smirk for one day longer. After the success of his Charity Calendar photoshoot last month, he'd acted even cockier than usual. You'd think he'd actually won the Indy 500 instead of simply sprawling across the hood of a race car. Just because that charity event had broken fundraising records didn't mean that Turk himself saved all those kids with cancer. He didn't do anything actually special. He didn't do anything Virgil couldn't have done, or wasn't wiling to do...or couldn't do better.

So it was with this frame of mind that Virgil called Reuben's charming friend Vivian to make arrangements for April's event.

The saloon was dark and smokey (actually it was simulated smoke from a dry ice machine, but hey...atmosphere) and the live band was playing a Carrie Underwood cover. One hundred of Las Vegas' wealthiest Up and Coming Young Entrepreneurs were gathered at the Rhinestone Cowboy, for the club's exclusive opening party. The guests were all under thirty, beautiful, and rich. Virgil studied the crowd, noting more actual diamonds than glass rhinestones worked into the western wear.

His eyes lit on a guy in his late 20s. Tall and muscular with cold blue eyes, Ryan Vance was a rising star in Willie Bank's organization. Virgil corrected himself (in a mental voice that sounded remarkably like Turk's), Vance _had_ been a rising star...until Danny, Rusty and the guys bankrupted Bank. Like the rat he was, Vance had abandoned his former mentor. He'd learned a lot from Bank, however, and was ready to launch his own venture: a members only social networking club that catered to the young, powerful and sadistic.

Virgil had a good information network among the mostly immigrant service community in Vegas. Vance not only exploited his workers, but Virgil had started to hear disturbing stories of young men and women who worked for Vance being threatened, injured, and in a few cases, going missing. Virgil had brought Turk and Linus into the loop and the three were planning something big to bring the bastard down.

The first part of that plan involved setting getting one of them on Vance's radar...and not in a good way. Virgil would piss him off, then a short while later Linus would position himself to be within earshot , badmouthing Virgil. Not quite good cop bad cop, but Classic in its own right. Happily for Virgil, pissing off Ryan Vance tied in beautifully with the Charity Calendar photos he'd promised.

Know your mark's weakness. That's what Virgil's Uncle Plato taught the Malloy brothers when they were just starting out in this business. For some, it's women; others, greed. In this instance, it's pride. Vance can't stand to loose at anything. Just a few weeks ago, he'd spend thousands to hire a former Minor league pitcher for an after work softball league.

So, Virgil knew all he had to do was get Vance hooked, then beat him, humiliate him, and take his money. Vivian and her photographers would capture it all on film (and make sure Virgil looked good in the process.)

The saloon had put a lot of marketing money into the promotion of "The Best Bull Ride Outside of the Rodeo!" In other words, they wanted folks to come in, get drunk, and get tossed off of some mechanical bulls. There were 4 machines, which led to a lot of friendly (and some not so friendly) competitions to see who could stay seated the longest.

That night, encouraged by the lovely (and thoroughly coached) Miss La La Las Vegas 2015, the host upped the ante...Strip Bull Riding. To sweeten the deal, the fee to enter was $2000. Winner take all. Vance was the first to enter. Virgil was right behind him, trash talking the entire time.

The first three rounds went quickly. Even without the copious amount of whiskey, or tequila that the riders had consumed, the mechanical bull was tough. It got faster and wilder, until only Virgil (down to a snug leather vest, chaps and a huge Stetson) and Vance (in snug jeans) were left.

In the crowd, Linus was getting nervous. Turk, for once, had absolutel faith in his brother.

"Virg may not look it, but he's got this in the bag. Used to want to be a cowboy...he probably still does. Watched enough gunslinger movies as a kid. He used to ride Broncos for real back in 4-H when we were younger too. He'll stick to that toy machine, no problem." Turk grinned, "Too bad he looks like a peckerwood jackass in that stupid hat."

Linus actually thought Virgil looked hot in the chaps and Stetson, but he bit his lip and kept quiet.

It took 5 sudden death rides, with Vance getting angrier and angrier before the winner was decided. With each rider down to a speedo and his pride, Virgil let go of the saddle horn and rode the bull with both arms above is head. He lasted the entire 3 minutes. Linus was sweating by the end of the ride.

Vance, of course, had to try to match the feat. He didn't make the 20 second mark. He was tossed gracelessly to the mat, where he lay cursing until his buddies dragged him away, humiliated. Whether he was embarrassed more because of his failure to stay on the bull or because of some snide comments about his overall manliness was a matter of opinion. But he was fit to be tied...and perfectly primed for Linus to move in and start the second half of the con.

Meanwhile, Virgil was the hero of the night. He donate all his winnings to La Raza, for the legal fund aimed at Vance's OSHA and labor violations.

But Vivian declared herself he biggest winner...she walked away with amazing action photos of - Virgil Malloy wearing a huge Stetson, leather vest with a sheriffs star, and teeny tiny leather speedo.

Yee ha!

AN- this was inspired by the cowboy hat Virgil wore to deliver balloons in O11 and Casey Affleck's incredible performance in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.


	5. Chapter 5 -Mr May

AN- Are you shocked? I posted in this in the proper month! Hope you enjoy.

xxxxxx

Danny could happily watch Rusty move all night long. From his place on the balcony, overlooking the party, Danny was supposed to be watching the crowd for a certain billionaire playboy, the night's mark, to make an appearance. He should have been scanning the crowd, not fixating on Rusty. But the risks were low tonight. The "bad"guys at the party weren't dangerous, just greedy, and Livingston had high tech eyes on the rougher, body guard types waiting outside. There were no guns, no psychopaths, no vengeful arch enemies lurking in the darkness. Just a vain rich guy with a predilection for cocaine, fast cars and jewelry that belonged to other people.

This job really belonged to Linus and the Malloys. Danny and Rusty were involved only because Linus' luggage had been lost, so his tux hadn t made it to Casablanca and it had been too late for even Rusty to procure one for him at the last minute. So Rusty stepped in as bait. And if Rusty was going to be bait, Danny was sure as hell going to be on the scene as well. He swore he'd never go through a repeat of the clusterfuck that had been the Singapore job ever again. The only physical scar Rusty bore from the ordeal was a tiny crescent shaped burn mark on his wrist, but they'd both had nightmares for weeks afterwards.

So, maybe this job was more about pulling something fun and easy,

but as long as nothing weird happened and no one called for backup, Danny could simply sip Dona Carla's excellent champagne and enjoy the view.

Rusty glided easily through the crowd. When he chose, when he turned on the charm, he drew people to him like sunshine. It was turned on now and soon, inevitably, he'd captured the mark's attention and was flirting with him at the bar.

Danny watched as Rusty smiled, dazzling the other man, letting himself get pulled closer. He watched as he pressed his hands to the mark's chest, coyly, and then slipped the stolen sapphire into his pocket. Under the circumstances, with the guy practically draped over Rusty, it was an easy pull, but it still thrilled Danny to watch Rusty in action. But as much as he enjoyed watching him work, Danny much preferred all that sensual focus, those clever hands, directed at him. He wanted to see a genuine smile and real desire on Rusty's face. He wanted it now.

So, he swallowed the last of the champagne and headed downstairs. Mission accomplished. Time to end the game. Time to go back to their hotel and celebrate.

He worked his way to the bar, moving through the crowd as easily as his partner had earlier, and eased up behind Rusty. He pressed possessively against him, nestling his hips against Rusty and grinding just a little, secretly, the press of people at the bar keeping the action hidden.

He whispered, low and dirty into Rusty's ear, "Time to go."

A short while later, with Rusty sprawled on the gigantic bed, clad only in silk boxers the same color as the sapphire he'd liberated ( and Danny thought, the same color as his eyes) Danny snapped a quick picture for Vivian and the charity calendar. They'd promised, and if she wanted something a bit more...posed...later, well Danny would keep this photo for himself.

And a much longer while later...yes, Danny could watch Rusty move all night long.


End file.
